


Mischief and Magic

by Hold_en



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Humor, One Shot, Professor Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 11:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hold_en/pseuds/Hold_en
Summary: What happens when Severus overhears fellow Professors speaking poorly of him?Why, revenge of course.





	Mischief and Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Q_Drew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Q_Drew/gifts).

> I should be writing for the hg/ss promptfest. I should be updating my WIP's. I should be doing a lot of these things. However I had a prompt I submitted for the promptfest and then it spiralled into this story (meant to be 10 pages) I hope you can forgive me and laugh along with our protagonist. As always, reviews are lovely and inspire me to create more.
> 
> This is dedicated to Q_Drew because she is endlessly patient with me, gives me inspiration and above all gives me support.

It was boredom, he supposed, that started it all.

Being the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts was no longer the challenge it had once been with Voldemort's constantly looming threat. Not to mention without Potter or Longbottom there to torture the days seemed to go by slowly.

The only thing of note to happen lately (and it was an annoying note at that) was the acquisition of Hermione _'know it all'_ Granger as the new charms instructor, since Filius had retired. She had proven to be just as unbearable a grown woman as she had been a student. The swotty attitude, the desperate desire to reform the teachers was all too apparent in each and every staff meeting.

When she first started at Hogwarts she had the gall to sit next to him at the Staff meeting and make the suggestion that since they were now colleagues they could become friends.

He had resolutely ignored her, making notes on his parchment for a potion idea he’d just thought of – A Repelling potion to be used against former students. When he’d caught her glancing over at his notes while Minerva droned on at the front, he had scowled and folded it away.

Minerva, as a headmistress, loved having her darling Gryffindor return to the fold. She loved Hermione's innovative ideas. The prize student was now her prize staff member and Snape found it appalling.

At one point he had caught Professor Granger in the library making up grids of color and names in rectangular blocks. He only stopped when he'd glanced over her shoulder and seen his own name shaded in with an emerald color.

When he rudely asked her what she thought she was doing, she explained that she was making up a schedule of sorts. One to organize the division of detentions and patrols.

"I used to make up study time tables all the time for Harry and Ron and I during school," she had exclaimed looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “I asked Minerva for all the Professor’s timetables to ensure they weren’t being overburdened.”

"And why praytell do you find it necessary to do for the entire staff?"

"Well, for example, you and Minerva both hand out a large majority of detentions,” Hermione explained, pointing to his column. “Coming in closely are Sprout and Vector-“

Before she could finish, Snape had pressed his hand onto the desk and leaned in, lowering his voice to a dark purr. His face inched towards hers slowly, menacingly. The girl’s brown eyes flew open, drawing to his eyes and then his mouth as he spoke.

“I suggest you leave me out of whatever you’re creating,” he said lowly. “Unlike those dunderheads you call friends, I don’t wish to be dragged into whatever schemes you’re concocting.”

He had drawn the line at that, pushing himself back on his heels and gone marching out of the library in a huff. She’d watched after him, her jaw slightly lowered and her eyes blown open widely.

She hadn't been quite so keen to give him additional work after that. And in fact, had taken to sitting as far away from him during staff meetings as possible.

It had been a relief.

What was more appalling was that all the rest of the staff still seemed to _like_ her! They too talked about her wonderful ideas and her fresh new approach really reinvigorating the staff. Sprout and she collaborated on ideas for charms and the mandrakes. Binns asked her advice for getting through to his students more effectively. Vector and she had tea weekly and discussed Arithmancy.

In stark contrast, Snape wasn't as popular with the rest of the staff. Yes, Snape and Minerva had always had their own strange sort of friendship and the staff had their own sort of grudging respect for him after all he done in the war.

But his personality was acidic and he really wasn't that pleasant to be around and he found he was rarely invited for social staff events. This was never an issue because if he’d been invited he never would have attended.

He was doing his traditional Friday evening rounds, wondering what his winter break would entail (aside for escaping staff party invitations) when he heard footsteps drawing nearer to him.

Sinistra and Vector were giggling to one another s they approached. Earlier in the day he had overheard a group of them planning on going to the _Three Broomsticks_ for a staff celebration. He was worried that in a bout of festive cheer they would extend the invitation to him and he quickly ducked into the nearest empty classroom. 

He assumed they would pass quickly, but instead they seemed to be pausing in the corridor, speaking in hushes to one another, still giggling.

“We’re meeting here, then?”

“Yes,” Sinistra said with a small peal of laughter at something Vector was doing. “I said we’d meet them by the one-eyed witch.”

The statue wasn’t that far from the classroom and Snape would not be able to leave without being drawn into conversation. He rolled his eyes, intending to wait them out. He began to go over his next term’s syllabus, effectively tuning them out. It was only when he heard his own name pop up that he actually started truly listening to their idle chatter.

"That's so terrible!" Vector was saying through giggles on the other side of the wall. "Poor Severus."

"Poor Severus nothing!" Sinistra insisted hotly. "I've tried time and time again to have a pleasant conversation with him. He seems determined to be a grumpy git."

"Well can you blame him?" Vector added objectively. "His life splashed all over the papers all the time?"

"Still," Sinistra said with a pouting tone. "It wouldn't hurt him to be a bit kinder, would it? To us at least?”

Snape hadn't time to think further on what they were saying because now it seemed they were turning to greet new footsteps that were approaching. Snape pressed himself against the wall, hoping they didn’t notice as they passed the open door.

"Oh hello you three" Vector said amiably. "Ready for drinks?"

"Afraid I've already got a head start," that was Horace Slughorn talking and he sounded near blottoed. The group gave a small titter of laughter and Snape was certain not to shift against the classroom wall. The last thing he needed was to be found spying.

"What's so funny?" That was Granger speaking stiffly. "We heard you laughing down the corridor."

Snape observed that she sounded tense - probably assuming they were laughing about her. It seemed her childish insecurity had still not left her.

"It's this joke going around," Sinistra said, her voice indicating she was smiling. "We heard some of the students reciting it."

"Go on then." That was Pomona's voice; she was likely already smiling widely in anticipation. She loved a good joke – the filthier the better.

"Alright," Sinistra said taking a dramatic pause. "Why did Severus Snape stand in the middle of the road?"

Snape stiffened.

There was a pause, then Horace's amused: "Why?"

"So you’d never know what side he’s on!"

The professors all broke into poorly suppressed giggles. With every note of amusement from the group, Snapes jaw clenched further.

"That's not very funny," Granger was saying. 

But Snape couldn't even hear the rest of it because he was doing his level best not to leap out and hex them. His hands were curled an angry fist at his side as the group soon after headed for the pub.

As soon as they left he had gone out into the grounds and began slicing the heads off the hedges in frustration with his wand. He couldn’t confront them –they’d know he’d been spying. And so he returned to his chambers sour and furious.

He'd been in foul spirits for the remainder of the week. It seemed to come to a head when he had just settled down Friday night with a glass of his favorite wine in hand and a good book in the other.

The door to his chambers were suddenly pounded on. He swore under his breath before dragging himself to full height before the door. He whirled it open, looking down with his most forbidding look to see two students outside.

One of them was a Ravenclaw prefect, holding the smaller first year Slytherin student by the shoulder.

"Hello sir,” the Ravenclaw said stoutly. “I confiscated this from one of your house. I thought you should know."

The prefect handed over the small jar before nodding and leaving Snape and the young boy alone. Snape took a cursory look at the jars lid to see that it was something from that blasted Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

"It's Peruvian instant darkness powder sir," the boy had offered up guiltily at his head of house. "It turns everything-"

"I'm sure I can deduce the items purpose," Snape had purred. "And what were you hoping to accomplish with it?"

"I was trying to steal the Ravenclaw Seekers broom. We go up against them this weekend. I bet two galleons on the game and wanted to make sure I won."

The boy was hanging his head in embarrassment he knew there was no point in lying to the man in front of him. the same man that was so talented that he was a better legilimens than even Voldemort himself. 

"And you were caught," Snape observed as if that were the real crime.

"Not exactly," the boy admitted, turning red. "I was practising using it in the corridor. I thought I was alone but the prefect saw me and..."

He trailed off, wincing as Snape held a hand up to stop him.

"That's enough," he said silkily. "You will join me as we hand the offensive item over to Filch and he can decide on the details of your detention."

"Yes sir."

That was another thing Professor Granger did that drove him batty. She'd insisted they do away with the detentions, citing that they did nothing for morale and did even less for stopping poor behaviour. Negative reinforcement she called it. she is dressed in something asinine like talk therapy and sitting down to discuss the problems.

"A trickster are we?" Filch said with dark promise as Snape handed over the darkness powder moments later.

Snape watched as Filch went to the large cabinet inside his modest office, unlocking it and shoving the item inside before whirling around with a nasty smile at this face.

"Let's see if your creative talents are any good at helping me to unplug all the clogged toilets."

Filch and the boy were already heading down the corridor with Filch giving a choked laugh. Snape normally would have followed them down and come back to his rooms. But something stopped him, something about the cabinet that Filch had stuck the Peruvian darkness power into.

He drew over quickly to the cabinet and he pulled back the middle drawer before he chanced a look inside. To his surprise it was nearly full of beastly looking items.

_Portable swamps. Puking pastilles. U-No-Poo. Canary creams. Fainting fancy. Nosebleed nougat. _

Snapes eyes skimmed over the brightly colored boxes declaring "_Use this tool to skive off school_!" There were so many he found himself rather overwhelmed and intrigued. Some of them were quite good magic.

It was no wonder Filch was in such a horrid mood all the time. These items would be the biggest nuisance if used--

In that moment an idea came to him.

He gave a furtive glance around the empty office before wordlessly taking the boxes from the cabinet, shrinking them and shoving them into his robes.

***

The first prank was a simple one.

It took place during the January staff meeting.

Granger had come in, full of New Year resolutions and apparently one of them was to sit next to him at the staff meeting and attempt to re-invigorating their nonexistent friendship. He still didn’t care for her or her overly solicitous personality, but he couldn’t help but observe she hadn’t laughed along with the rest of them that night. He supposed that was what caused him to allow it. 

“Good morning Professor.”

“_Is it_?”

He winced at the sharpness in his tone. Was he so incapable of being pleasant? He shifted in his seat, surprised to see that Professor Granger didn’t look put out at all. Apparently she had been expecting such a response.

“I think so,” she responded with an easy smile before bringing out her parchment and quills. He noticed that her hair had recently been trimmed. “Did you do anything fun for your winter holidays?”

He couldn’t help but notice that she was sitting awfully close to him. So close he could see each sparse freckle that trailed along the bridge of her nose. He gave a casual shrug, dragging his gaze away from hers.

“I went to the Burrow to see everyone,” Hermione continued chattering merrily. “The little ones are getting so big!”

He couldn’t help but be minutely intrigued at this. “You didn’t spend the holidays with your parents?”

Hermione’s memory modification and subsequent reunification with her parents had been public news. She was often found remarking how thankful she was that they had been unharmed. To think she would miss something like Christmas with them seemed strange.

“Oh they love to ski,” Hermione wrinkled her nose at this. “I hate it. Feels too much like flying. Probably why I don’t like riding brooms very much.”

She continued to chatter on and Snape was acutely aware of the stares that they were generating as the staff began to trickle into the room. He had never spoken at this length with any staff member before, especially not the bright-eyed, forever smiling kind.

“Do you suppose you have any free time this evening?” she was saying, her voice dropping. Snape bristled as some of the other professors glanced over at them, having caught what she was asking.

It was then that he had the remarkably uncomfortable feeling that Hermione was making a project out of him. Just as she had with the rest of the staff. Immediately he felt his hackles rising in response as she continued, her dark eyes sparkling.

“I just wondered-“

“I am _not_ your latest project,” Snape snapped, noticing the flush of pink at the girl’s cheeks as he spoke in vitriolic tones at her. “I am not a House Elf or a Dunderhead. And what precious little time I do have, won’t be sacrificed so you can force me into some new scheme of yours.”

His voice had risen, gathering the stares from the staff around the table. He frowned deeply at them, a line sliced down the middle of his brow.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Hermione retorted, her chin raised. Hermione then turned so forcefully away from him he thought he heard her neck crack. He faltered a moment at the sight of her hair coming to shield her pink face as Minerva entered. 

"With a new year comes with a new fiscal budget," Minerva declared sharply, fixing them all with a serious look over her square glasses. There was a suppressed groan at this announcement.

Financial talks were always a dull and belaboured. They always ended up with one Professor taking ages to plead their case on why is there classes needed the funds over others. Sometimes it got quite vicious.

"I know several of you have expressed a desire to discuss further funding for your programs," Minerva continue to so she didn't see the glazed and bored looks of her staff. "As as discussed in our last meeting this will be a chance for you to provide examples and outline the reasoning for such an expenditure.”

She went to the parchment she had tacked up on the notice board in the staff lounge. Her eyes scanned it quickly and fell upon the first name listed there.

"Aurora you signed up to speak about the necessary funding of new telescopes.”

Minerva politely took a seat as the tall astronomy professor moved to the front of the staff room holding in her hand a small gold telescope. Snape snuck a glance at Hermione out the corner of his eyes, seeing she was writing quickly.

"Thank you, Headmistress," Aurora Sinistra said primly. She turned to look at the rest of the staff beseechingly. 

"As I'm sure many of you are aware we need to be on the cutting edge when it comes to our students and their education," she said, setting up the small gold telescope on a stand beside her.

"As you'll see, with these outdated telescopes in my classroom we can barely see _Ursa Major_," she said, pointing the telescope out the window and peering through the eye piece up ensure it was focused properly. "Ah! Blurry, just as I said. I know for a fact that the astronomy classes in _Beauxbatons_ have-"

Whatever she'd been about to say was suddenly cut off as a small fist sprang forth from the eyepiece and punched her soundly in the left eye.

As if to add insult to injury a black puff of smoke sounded loudly as well causing the rest of the teachers to start and utter small cries of "_goodness_!"and _"Merlin_!"

Sinistra had yelped back, clutching at her face in surprise and pain. Granger was there immediately, offering to heal it. Sinistra shook her head and Granger took her seat looking defeated.

_Wouldn't have worked anyway. She needs the Weasley bruise paste_, Snape thought smugly.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Well if this is the state in which the telescopes are in," Snape finally drawled. "We really must consider the funding of new ones. This is the health of our students we're talking about."

He pretended to be shocked when Aurora whirled around to face him. Already she was sporting the start of a blackened eye and it took everything in him to suppress a smirk.

"You bloody berk!" Aurora howled, bringing a hand to cover her injured eye. "These have obviously been _tampered_ with!"

"Tampered?" Snape feigned shock.

"It's that bloody Weasley shop!" Aurora grimaced. "They pulled this stunt a few years ago as well."

She jerked around to face Minerva casting and accusing finger in the woman's direction.

"I thought you'd banned all Weasley products from being used in this school!"

"I have," Minerva said with a frown. "Filch tries his level best to ensure none of it comes back from Hogsmeade. He confiscates any that he finds."

"The students must be having them flown in," Pomona offered with a shrug.

"Well we must all be diligent," Minerva said stoutly sweeping her gaze across the room at all of them. "And I myself will keep a close eye on the post delivery for the next few weeks."

The meeting continued and Snape relaxed back in his seat, very thankful that he already had his Weasley products stored carefully within his chambers. 

***

The prank on Slughorn occurred during mealtime a week later. Snape did his best to ignore the fluttering of owls as they approached with that morning’s post. He was tired, having spent much of the night doing patrols and preparing his lessons.

He moved the food on his plate aimlessly, his attention already trailed on the owl post above them. The students were giving small shouts of excitement as parcels rained down on them. 

Horace was to one side of the Head table gulping down his tea noisily and smiling as one of the owls dropped a small parcel onto his lap.

_Perfect timing. _

Horace opened the dark blue envelope with dramatic relish, waving it in front of his face as he read. His mouth stretched into a long Cheshire-cat like smile.

"It seems one of my former students wanted to pass along a belated holiday gift," he said with an air of importance.

His voice carried over the long table so that those nearest him had their attention broken. Even Granger, seated at the far end of the table had looked up from her newspaper to see what had delighted Slughorn so much.

"Who is it from?" Sinistra asked politely. No one in the staff actually cared. Listening to Horace drone on and on about his past students and their ambitions had been draining and exhausting and not to mention completely dull.

"A Miss Hune Dreadd," Horace read the name on the card with a pronounced French flourish that made the first name sound like “_Honey_”. The name in and of itself was rather fancy sounding. Surely she had been a wizarding aristocrat? He looked at the note and read it dramatically for all who were near.

"_Dear Professor Slughorn, I am so terribly distraught that your Christmas gift was not sent on time. Please accept my deepest apologies and enjoy this tasty treat - you _deserve _it._"

"Well that's quite sweet," Pomona said kindly when he'd stopped reading. She glanced at the card and passed out along the table for the nearby teachers to read and try to muster enthusiasm over.

"Can't say I recall her," Sinistra offered with a shrug, handing the note over to Hermione. Sinistra was not looking up from the coffee she was stirring. Ever since the telescope incident she had taken to avoiding eye contact with others.

Granger took the note, looking it over quickly before sending it back along the table to Slughorn. Snape tried his best not to laugh aloud when Slughorn spoke next.

"She was a very bright girl," Horace blustered, not wanting to admit that neither could he remember the girl. It wouldn't be good for his carefully cultivated image of collector of important figures if he forgot them!

"Well what did she send you?" Vector asked.

"Let's see."

Horace eased open the package gently, savouring the moment and the attention. Inside was a small gold box that bore the label _Honeydukes_. Horace eagerly lifted the lid and gave a small chortle of delight.

"Toffees!" He said with a small clap of his hands. "An entire assortment. How delightful.”

Snape continue to sip his coffee, pretending that he was scanning the room to ensure his Slytherins were acting with decorum. But instead through his blanket of dark hair he was gazing sidelong down the head table, waiting to see what would happen next.

He had been half worried that Horace would simply take the treasures back with him to his room and eat them at his leisure. But he had been counting on the man's gluttonous need for adoration as well as sugar.

To his immense delight, and minor relief, Horace popped open one of the gleaming silver wrappers and popped the toffee into his mouth like a glutton.

"Mmmm," he said with an ostentatious moan that caused several students near the head table to glance up with furrowed brows. "These are absolutely _divine.”_

Everyone knew that Horace didn't share his gifts, especially those of the edible persuasion. Snape had been counting on that. Several of the teachers that had glanced over at Horace during his emphatic mewls of delight now tried not to roll their eyes.

He would have talked more about the various attributes of what he was eating if his tongue hadn't suddenly swollen three sizes.

It fell onto the table with a wet thud. Horace’s eyes are as large as saucer plates. He was staring down at it as if something akin to a giant slug had crawled out of his mouth. He looked momentarily shocked at what was happening to him.

Horace let out a small gurgle that drew the attention of the nearby professors who exclaimed at once, several rushing to stand and knocking over their chairs. Minerva was shouting for Pomfrey.

Snape glanced into the sea of faces to see the students elbowing one another and pointing at Horace while muffling laughter. Snape pretended not to notice, hoping his coffee cup would hide his smile.

Pomfrey, having been alerted, took one look at the flailing Horace from the entrance to the hall and heaved a frustrated sigh.

"_Ton-tongue toffees_," she muttered under her breath as she strode down the back of the table.

She moved to Horace's chair, gently urging him to follow her. Horace staggered to a standing position, cradling his tongue in his hand before his free hand began clutching at Pomfrey as if he were a drowning man and she a lifebuoy. 

Snape watched them leave, secretly delighting in the muffled giggles and poorly suppress snorts of the students as they passed. Served the blighter right for laughing at _him_!

He felt someone's eyes on him and he glanced down the table to see Hermione Granger giving him a strange look.

He scowled nastily at her before going back to his coffee.

***

By the time the February had rolled around the _Hogwarts Barmy Prankster_ (or H.B.P.) was infamous. Whispers that went off through the Halls assumed that it was a Gryffindor acting in Fred and George's stead.

Peeves was especially delighted, floating down the halls and tutting that the ton -tongue toffee had been an inspired choice.

After his delightful prank on Aurora and Horace, Snape had moved quickly onto Professor Vector. She had a very well known fear of the dark and so it was quite obvious what he needed to do.

He had enjoyed tossing a dash of the Peruvian darkness powder into the classroom on his way down the corridor. No one had noticed of course. He'd levitated it through the crack under the door midway during her lessons and had it drop quickly.

The shrieks of confused students and sound of Vector bumping into things in a frantic bid to escape the classroom caused him to chuckle darkly as he made his way down to the dungeons.

From what he heard she’d given herself a split lip from running headlong into the blackboard in her haste to escape the room before she’d had the good sense to use her wand.

Professor Sprout had been his latest victim. The night before her first year Herbology classes resumed, he had busied himself with burying some exciting things within the mandrake pots.

When the students had pulled them from their pots, they had been greeted to an array of fireworks that shot off in all directions. With every Mandrake that was removed, a bundle of fireworks were unearthed and sent spiraling all about the Greenhouse Three. The mandrakes shrieked so loudly in response that all the glass shattered, leaving Pomona shattered.

From what Snape gleaned from the boisterous laughter of the students over lunch that day, it had been quite the display.

But now it was the start of February and he was stuck on how to best prank Professor Granger. She was a tough one because while he knew of her as a student, he had no idea what her personal bugaboos were. He knew the girl was a try-hard and that was it.

There was also the niggling feeling that there was something about the young woman that set him on edge. Was she aware of his pranks? Would she tell Minerva? As fun as this all was, he couldn’t really imagine explaining to Minerva that he felt it was fair to exact revenge on a bunch of gossips by wreaking havoc within Hogwarts.

There was also another niggling feeling in his abdomen. The woman hadn’t really laughed at him, had she?

_No. She stood by while it happened. _

An image of another muggle-born witch standing by while he was humiliated was fresh in his mind and he internally growled. Besides, there was the matter of trying to carrel him into extra work with that timetable of hers.

But enough of that- back to how best to prank the indomitable Gryffindor. Perhaps a boggart of Minerva telling her she was fired hidden in her desk? That may just work… Or perhaps a forged missive from the Ministry telling her that she had been tested as “_too muggle_” to remain in the Wizarding world and that she had to turn over her wand?

He was halfway through deciding how best to humiliate the Gryffindor princess when he heard the tap of an owl at his window. The creature was holding a pale pink envelope and it smelled heavenly. Like india ink and old books, jasmine and the Scottish winds just before the first snowfall.

_Amortentia._

He scowled at the obvious bid for his affection – didn’t whomever write know that he was a Potions master? - before tearing open the missive. The unfamiliar little owl hooted impatiently before moving from foot to foot. Snape reached into the bowl at the window and passed it a treat from his windowsill before he looked down at the pink parchment.

_Dearest Severus,_

_I am writing to you because I have respected you for such a long time. Your well-deserved status as war hero has only solidified my affections. With Valentine’s Day approaching, I would love for nothing more than a night of mutual pleasure. Discretion is preferred given my position at the Ministry, as I’m sure you can understand. I do promise you a night of carnal bliss that you will be hard pressed to forget. I would like to meet Valentine’s evening. I will be wearing a pink bow in my hair so you know it’s me. _

_Please let me know of your decision. _

_Your Eager Valentine. _

Before he thought any further he produced his wand and cast a revealing spell on the parchment. Nothing was shown. He bent down, his long nose almost touching the ink letters to cast another revealing spell on the ink being used – if he could, he could discover the shop it had been bought at and- - -

Another dead end. His spell came up with nothing. Whoever had written this note had gone to great lengths not to be discovered. He had to admit to being intrigued at that. He then moved onto the body of the message, re-reading and reflecting

She was old enough to work in the Ministry, which ruled out any current students. This was a relief to him – but the knowledge that she would likely be one of his _former _students gave him pause.

_What does it matter? Don’t I deserve a night of willing flesh? _

But another more rational part of him was immensely wary of the note. Witches had sent him many things by post after the fall of Voldemort. That was hardly a surprise. What was a shock however was that he was actually _considering_ it.

_Would it really be so terrible if-_

“No,” he spoke aloud, as if trying to divert his mind from going down a lurid road. It was a stupid idea that would give him nothing but anxiety and the possibility of boils in his nether regions.

Then there was that nagging feeling at the base of his skull. This feeling that he couldn’t quite explain. That perhaps that was someone else he wished to pursue…He immediately dismissed this errant thought. He was obviously over-tired.

He crumpled the paper and threw it into his glowing hearth where it burned, giving off the scent of roses and carnations. He fell back into his chair, pouring himself a new fire whiskey and looking into the fire. The owl remained, looking anxiously at Snape as the man shouted at him to bugger off.

A few moments passed in which the dour man seemed to be wrestling with the decision. An anonymous sexual encounter with a willing witch? He’d done much worse! This was positively tame!

_Carnal bliss._

The term seemed to be floating all around his head like some smoky temptress. With his photo all over _the Daily Prophet_ there was no surprise on what he looked like – yet this witch wanted him. Desired him! Should he really look a gift Thestral in the mouth? 

Before he could think it through more fully he’d dropped into his desk chair and began writing furiously. He tore up his

_This is acceptable. I will meet you at the Culhwch and Olwen restaurant in Caerphilly at nine o’clock.  
_

_S.Snape_

He knew it sounded stand offish, but he was paranoid about sounding too eager. He watched the finished letter being carried off to his secret admirer in the grey February sky and sighed. 

It really had been such a long time since he’d gone to bed with a witch. As if acknowledging this, Snape’s member gave a sudden twitch as if silently thanking him for reconsidering.

***

The _Culhwch and Olwen_ was a quiet restaurant in south Wales. A fairly secluded wizarding community with people who minded their own business. It was upscale enough to make him look dignified without fleecing him too much of his galleons.

He peered around the corner of the first level corridor at eight fifty, relieved that it was empty. Students and Professors alike were obviously busy with their own Valentine plans. He had given himself enough time to walk to the perimeter of the school and Apparate without drawing attention.

He smoothed down his new robes, absently patting at his recently washed and dried hair. He hadn’t spent this long trying to impress someone in a while. But if he was going to bed a witch he wanted to look and feel his best.

“You look very nice, sir.”

If not for years as a spy, Snape would have jumped at the sudden intrusion. Instead he stopped, rigidly glancing over his shoulder to see Professor Granger just exiting one of the classrooms, her arms loaded down with books. His gaze swept over her pink cheeks and bright eyes as she smiled up at him.

“Those look like new robes,” Hermione continued, shifting her weight under the books she carried. “Do you have a date this evening?”

Snape stiffened. He felt he was an insect under a microscope with the way Hermione Granger was looking him up and down and he didn’t like it. He narrowed his beetle black eyes on her. 

“I’m doing patrols. Only dunderheads make plans for Valentine’s Day,” Snape sneered.

“That’s not true,” Hermione laughed, walking alongside him down the corridor. “I have plans this evening and I think-“

There was no reason for him to be upset, but he was. As soon as she mentioned having plans he felt as if the ocean were roaring in his ears. He could hear nothing else. He felt his lips thinning and his entire countenance darkening.

“What a surprise,” he said, cutting her off. “Judging by your attire, I’d assumed you’d be quite alone this evening.”

It was as if she had been slapped. The playful smile on her face was gone and replaced with a scowl that would rival his own. She stopped walking alongside him immediately.

“For your information I have quite the full night,” Hermione sniffed. “I just don’t bother with wizards who are so caught up on looks.”

With that she flounced away, leaving Snape feeling ashamed at being so rude for no reason. The truth was he had been embarrassed at being caught going out for this rendezvous by Professor Granger.

If there was a wizard less concerned with looks, Snape would like to meet him. She’d looked perfectly lovely with her unruly hair and ink-stained fingers. So then why was he always so spiteful with the witch? Why did she set him so on edge?

He hadn’t time to think further on that. He had a date.

***

He had planned on arriving late, in order to see who was waiting for him. If she was deemed unsavory he would merely turn on his heel and pretend he’d never arrived. But his run in with Professor Granger had him out of sorts, and he wanted a stiff drink.

He was seated at an intimate seat near the back, fairly dark and private as requested. He ordered a double firewhiskey and drank it hurriedly while he waited.

He watched as house elves went from table to table, cleaning and setting out new cutlery. Tall, willowy blonde servers moved from table to table with practiced ease, showcasing bottles of expensive elf-made wine and delicious looking canapés to the collection of muted wizard and witches.

His observation was broken when a hobbled creature in a tuxedo and carrying a basket of roses came to his table. Snape immediately frowned, unwilling to enter into any bartering over flowers. He hated flowers and knew the creature was simply taking advantage of the holiday to fleece the customers.

“For your lovely lady,” the creature leered, shoving the roses onto Snape’s table. “On the house.”

Snape was about to refuse when the creature scampered away and a bone-chilling voice suddenly sounded out.

"Oh, Severus!" 

Snape felt all the blood leave his face as he slowly glanced up. His face was a frozen mask of horror as the garish pink body and cheeks of Dolores Umbridge came into view. _What's she doing here? If she catches me with some stranger for a shag I'll never hear the end of it._ It was fairly common knowledge that Dolores Umbridge fancied Snape. She had ever since her hectic tenure as headmistress of Hogwarts and High Inquisitor.

When she wasn't asking him for his supplies of _veritaserum_ she was continually talking to him about different torture methods, detentions and cozying up to him for details on the dark lord. And now she was here, her cheeks and lips a bright pink that made him retch internally. There was no way he could excuse himself to his ‘date’ if she was hovering nearby. Besides, she still had some sway at the Ministry and he had no desire for his name to be bandied about by the higher ups. 

"Hello Dolores," he said with faux sincerity dripping from his words.

He stood and took her hand, giving it the briefest of shakes. He couldn’t help but notice she lingered, gripping him so tightly he winced. He had a moment of panic that if his date happened upon them he would either be out a shag or have the uncomfortable task of introducing her to Dolores ‘Gossipy Hen’ Umbridge. 

His dark eyes were scanning the space around them, suddenly on edge. "It's so lovely to see you," Dolores said with one of her trademark shrill giggles. As if she were trying to sound young and feminine but came off sounding quite manic instead. "I admit, I was rather delighted to receive your letter." _Letter?_ At this she patted at her hair and Snape’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. 

He was so used to seeing her wear bows that he’d glossed over the fact that she was wearing a pale pink one now, perched atop her bouffant. In an instant, the realization of what had happened slapped him harshly across the face. 

Dolores didn't notice or chose to ignore the flummoxed expression on his face. 

"Are those for me?" She lowered herself into the seat across from him, taking the blooms and inhaling deeply. She did it for dramatic effect before batting her eyelashes at him. Her toad like eyes were lined with dark coal and Snape realized with dawning horror that _this_ was his date for the evening.

"Flowers and a Valentine's date. How surprising!” She gave him a look he assumed she considered coy. “You always struck me as the more conservative and private type."

_Normally am, except when I'm desperate for a shag._

He drummed his fingers along the white linen tablecloth and thought sourly of how he'd been bested. And by whom? Snape tugged at the cuffs of his jacket and grimaced awkwardly. How to extricate himself smoothly? If he caused a scene, Dolores was sure to spread vicious lies about him at the Ministry. This would hurt any chance he had of patenting his latest dragon-scale salve. 

_Fuck._

The waiter came by at this point dropping off a complimentary bottle of champagne and giving them both the most conspiratorial of smiles that was practically dripping with delight. 

"What a lovely couple," he said dipping his gaze to the two rather unattractive people across from him. "Can we start you two lovebirds off with one of our Valentine appetizers?" 

"I don't think-"

"Oooh these look lovely!" Dolores was excitedly tapping her pink fingernail against something on the menu. "Could we have one of those?"

"Most certainly Madame."

He practically flew from their table and Snape watched on in jealousy. After a moment he forced himself to accept that he was to remain seated across from the toad-faced woman. 

"That champagne looks lovely," she giggled nervously. "Will you pour me a glass, Severus?" 

With a stricken look, he did as she asked. He didn't know if it was because of the awkwardness of the interlude or just the fact that he thought if he got her blottoed he could slip out undetected. 

“Not too much!” she trilled, pulling her flute away. “I don’t want to get tipsy!” 

So much for that plan. 

Snape feigned a quirk of a smile that came out more as a sneer before the appetizers arrived and he held in a groan. They were heart-shaped and sprinkled liberally with what appeared to be a red flecks of rose petal. 

_Oh for fucks' sake._

“The symbol of St. Valentine appetizer is a mixture of goat cheese, cranberries and lemongrass,” the server said with a melodramatic flourish of his hands.

“Oh and in the shape of a heart!” Dolores clutched a pudgy hand to her breast. “How lovely!” 

The server gave a scraping bow before leaving them once more in awkward silence. He watched as she took small bites of the appetizer and then took her napkin and dabbed at the corner of her mouth. She did this after every bite and Snape passed the time counting how many times she dabbed at her mouth. Thirty-four times so far. When she reached forty he was going to make an excuse and leave. 

“Hem hem.” 

Snape’s dark eyes moved from his champagne glass over to the woman looking at him in a bid to get his attention. “Sore throat, Dolores?” 

“Oh no, nothing like that,” she beamed. “I was just asking you why you chose this location to meet?” 

“I used to come here in my younger days,” Snape replied, barely moving his lips. 

Suddenly the waiter was back, telling them of the evening specials. Dolores ordered something with a ridiculous sounding name and Snape muttered something about a steak and kidney pie - the least romantic food he could think of. 

"Do try some," Umbridge urged, motioning to the appetizer she was still finishing. "It's lovely."

"I'm fine." 

He took a long sip from his champagne glass before refilling it. If he couldn’t get her drunk perhaps he could obliterate himself with drink. At least the evening would be more passable. The meals arrived and Snape poked listlessly at his. Dolores continued to eat quickly, looking positively delighted at anyone who would meet her eyes. 

"I was so delighted to receive your letter," she said between bites, obviously trying to fill the silence. “So out of the blue! Asking me to supper and on Valentine’s Day no less!”

Ah yes, the letter. The letter he had written had been obviously forged. Just as the letter to him had been. The only question was by whom? Who would go to such lengths? Snape was about to ask more about her letter when there came the sound of harps, and a caterwauling voice at his elbow. 

"We are here to serenade the lovely couple," a slender wizard with a pronounced lisp announced. He was carrying a golden harp and wearing enchanted wings that fluttered and sent pink glitter going everywhere. Snape looked as if he had been forced to eat flobberworm pus.

"I didn't request-" 

"No need to be shy sir," the man said was a dramatic nudge and wink in Severus's direction. "We received your note earlier." 

Snape’s eyes blew open a moment. "I didn't-"

"Oh Severus," Dolores cooed, reaching a pudgy hand over to his and covering it gently. "I never knew you had the side to you! All those months at Hogwarts I thought you didn’t like me!" 

Before he could say anything in defense of the mix-up, the band of elves behind the singer had struck up. They were doing a cover of Celestina Warbeck’s classic love ballad. 

_Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone?_

_It's left me for a spell_

_But I don't mind, 'cause with you I find_

_I'm always feeling well..._

They must have looked a sight sitting across from one another. The woman of bright pink and fluttering hands as she listened to the music and slowly swayed in her seat. And he, the slender man of darkness, slouched in his seat and glowering at everyone who dared to catch his eye. And worst of all they were being serenaded by the off-key tunes of an untalented oaf of a musician. 

"-_two, three, four!__You charmed the heart right out of me_

_Don't need no broom, I'm flying free_

_I think by now it's plain to see_

_I'm nothing without youuuu_" 

Snape felt his humiliation coming over him in waves. From Dolores's saccharine smiles at him as the band played, to the onlookers at nearby tables giggling behind their hands, he felt nothing but blood red ire. 

"_You charmed the heart right of me_

_To my whole life you hold the key_

_You cast your spell and suddenly_

_I cannot forget you_!"

This was bloody enough. 

He felt his entire body thrumming with adrenaline. He was going to find that moron who thought this was funny and he was going to strangle him. He prepared to stand, his hands instinctively reaching for his wand. As if noticing this, the group hurriedly moved on to the next table and began to serenade the joyful looking couple.

"I meant to ask you," Dolores said as the band moved to the next table. "How is your research coming along?" 

"My research?"

"Yes," she nodded, taking another sip of champagne. "I saw the requisition form come across my desk a few weeks ago. You wanted some rare ingredients from Transylvania, didn't you to complete it? For your work on a faster acting healing salve involving Dragon scales?" 

Snape felt himself deflate. "I did... I do."

"There's so much red tape around the importing of such things these days," she said with an empathic pout. "There's the fear of weaponry. The Transylvanian's have quite the reputation. Must be so frustrating for you."

"It is,” Snape said dumbly. 

"But things can go so much faster if you know the right people," she purred. "I could help you there. A war hero such as yourself shouldn't have to suffer such indignities." 

His entire body stilled. If he got his materials expedited through the post his chance of research and subsequent publication, patenting (and royalties) would be in good stead. If he left in a huff now Dolores would undoubtedly withdraw her support and there was a good chance his research would suffer. Or worse, someone would get there first. Snape forced himself to smile, though he worried it came out as more of a grimace and he nodded. 

“I do hope I know the right people,” he purred, trying not to retch as she winked lasciviously at him. 

“Oh I think you do.” 

The server had returned and this time with a large chocolate cake dotted with strawberries in the shape of hearts. On the top was a sugar coated cherub that brandished a bow and arrow. 

“We didn’t order this,” Snape snapped. 

“On the house,” the server said with a dramatic wink before sauntering off back to the kitchens. 

“Oh my!” Dolores said, looking at the cake hungrily. “It’s beautiful!” 

She was about to give another dab at her face when the napkin fell from her hands and onto the floor. She looked expectantly at Snape who had simply observed the linen’s fall to the ground.

"How clumsy of me," she said coquettishly batting her eyelashes at him, obviously expecting him to retrieve the soiled item. 

Snape inwardly rolled his eyes but stood and bent down to retrieve it. He was bumped from behind and fell to one knee. Just then, as he was preparing to stand there came a sudden motion from the cake. The sugar cherub atop the cake suddenly began to dance and sing. 

"_My angel in pink_

_It's not what you think_

_I've forever loved you, yes it's true! _

_From your beautiful eyes_

_To your lusciously shaped thighs_

_Do me the honor and please say I do!"_

The delight in Umbridge eyes was suddenly fading. But the song wasn't over. 

_"Dolores, please be my wife_

_Join in all parts of my life_

_Let's share our dreams and joy_

_There's no need to be coy_

_Simply say yes, my dear love!" _

A sudden round of applause went around the restaurant and several flashing bulbs went off. When had Rita Skeeter arrived here? And who the blithering fuck had decided that everyone should stand and applaud as if he’d had some willing hand in all of this? 

Snape had the sudden realization that he was still stuck kneeling on the floor in front of her as the cherubic monster asked her to be his wife. Instead of a ring he was holding her soiled napkin. No one seemed to care about this small hiccup. 

_Fuck me. _

The look on Dolores' bloated face went from delight to sudden nervous guilt as she took in the scene. She withdrew into her chair, looking at him with wide eyes. He stood abruptly, dropping the napkin and giving her a beseeching look.

"I'm... So_ flattered_, Severus. I never knew you felt this way." 

"Dolores-" 

"But I'm afraid I'm not up for such a commitment," she continued, rising from the table. She was looking at him as if he were a feral animal. "Not this early in our courtship. Oh, I’m afraid this is moving far too quickly for me. I’m sorry, Severus! I don't think this is a good fit! We're simply not on the same page!” 

More bulbs went off and Snape could only imagine the headline in the Prophet the next day. He didn’t bother trying to explain anything. She was gone in a flurry of pink and Snape had to suffer through the uncomfortable silence that followed. 

The waiter returned, giving Snape the most sympathetic of smiles and handing him the bill. Snape collapsed into the chair, throwing back a firewhiskey and throwing down some galleons before he disapparated home. 

***

The next day Snape awoke with an obscene hangover that his normal potions only seemed to touch. He trudged to the Head Table, wincing as he approached. None of the other staff seemed to bat an eye at his ascent near the end of the table, as far away from them as possible.

His dark gaze slid over the sea of student faces and was surprised to note that none seemed to be stifling laughter or suppressing giggles. He comforted himself with the knowledge that perhaps he could still instill enough fear into the hearts of others to keep from becoming a laughingstock.

He looked to his customary cup of coffee, noticing that the morning’s post was placed beside it. He tore open the first one, still bleary eyed from lack of sleep. A letter from the Ministry office approving his dragon scales for import greeted him. Attached to it was a small perfumed note of pale pink.

_Severus,_

_It’s the least I could do._

_With affection,_

_Dolores Umbridge _

Snape inwardly rolled his eyes. The evening had been an unmitigated disaster, but there was a silver lining. The work he had been wanting to continue now could without delay. This took off some of the sting that accompanied the sight of The Daily Prophet underneath it. 

His pale, sour face stared back at him from the page, kneeling before Umbridge who looked equally uncomfortable. His photographic self was holding the napkin and trying to unbudge from where he was kneeling, but to no avail.

_ Will Severus Snape EVER find love?_

He cringed at the article which went into detail about his lack of a love life. Then into his solitary existence. The candor of which he had admitted his love for Dolores Umbridge and her brutal rebuffal. He wanted to scream.

He saw out of the corner of his eyes that Professor Granger was approaching the head table, a book under her arm. She passed by Snape’s chair very slowly and Snape had the distinct impression she was reading over his shoulder.

“How strange,” Hermione mused quietly as she passed him. “I heard that only _dunderheads _made plans on Valentine’s Day.”

He heard her giggle as he strode angrily from the table, his breakfast untouched.

***

A missive arrived after his last class that afternoon. He had been scaling the marble staircase towards the _Owlery_ to send off for his first shipment of dragon scales when he was sudden accosted by a wayward owl in the hall.

Professor Granger was heading down the corridor flanked by several chattering students. She always was – the students loved her. She could get as excited about a project or essay as they could. She always had an answer to their questions and when she didn’t, she always promised to find out. It was one of the things Snape could brgrudingly admit that he respected about her.

However today he was still slighted from her comment at breakfast and resolutely scowled at her as he approached. However the unexpected sight of the bird diving towards the Professor caused her to still and watch with widened eyes.

The students looked completely bewildered when the owl put the note directly into Snape’s hand proudly, before spinning mid-air and heading for the nearest window.

Several of the students looked at the note in the forbidding man’s hand and suppressed laughs of amusement. He scowled at them, threatening to remove house points for crowding the hall before whirling back and heading down to his classroom.

When inside he opened the envelope quickly, his dark eyes scanning the line of text twice. It contained only one sentence, written in neat, feminine script.

_I hope you enjoyed a taste of your own potion. _

Snape growled, throwing the note into the air and using his wand to zap it into so many pieces it was fine ash when it finally settled.

"Poor sport.”

He whirled around at the cheery sound and saw to his confusion and surprise that Professor Granger was there, leaning casually against the door jamb and watching him with a look of mild amusement dancing in her dark brown eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

Hermione walked casually into the classroom, closing it behind her as she did. Snape watched in quiet confusion as she approached him, her cheeks flushed.

"_Hune Dreadd_?" Hermione scoffed. "Even Ron could make that anagram out. Only one man I know calls everyone he knows a _dunderhead_."

Snape was silent, watching her from behind reproachful black eyes.

“If you’re wondering why you bothered going in the first place,” Hermione said proudly tipping her chin. “The note was laced with a persuasion jinx to ensure you’d go. It would only activate when burnt and I knew you’d throw the note into the fire the moment you got it. Or at least, I was _quite_ sure. I admit it was a long shot. But I think I know you fairly well.”

He could feel the tips of his ears burning in fury. _She _was the one who had bested him? She was the reason he’d been set up on that beastly “date” with Umbridge? He knew the girl was sadistic, but surely one had to draw the line at _Umbridge_?!

“And in case you’re concerned about your reputation,” Hermione continued, giving him a mischevious smile. “You should know that your server was George Weasley in disguise and the woman playing Rita Skeeter was me.”

“You?”

“I couldn’t resist seeing my plan in action,” Hermione said giggling. “And that Daily Prophet you received this morning? A single copy of my own devising. Your precious reputation is maintained and I know how much you’ve grown to care about it since the end of the war. As I said, I know you fairly well.”

Snape felt his face growing hot at the knowledge he had been bested by the princess of Gryffindor. A woman who he’d always assumed was a swot with no ability for subterfuge. However he was more surprised by something she had said earlier that stuck out to him. She knew him fairly well? That was a laugh.

“You don’t know me at all,” he grumbled.

“I think I do.” Hermione said with a patient smile. “I know that you’re incredibly sensitive and proud. I know that you don’t like being laughed at and I know you were furious that night in the corridor.”

He started at this, scanning her face for a moment. Was she referencing what he thought she was? But how?

“I know what time you do your Friday rounds,” Hermione answered his unspoken question. “And I know _where_.”

For a moment he felt his eyes widen – why did she know his patrolling schedule? But then it came to him. Of course – the schedule she’d been making up that day in the library. All the Professor’s names with their corresponding patrols and detention times. 

“I see.”

“When all the pranks began targeting the individuals present in that conversation I had an inkling,” Hermione offered with a mirthful tilt of her head. “It was solidified when I saw you trying not to laugh at Horace that morning at breakfast.”

“I could have been laughing at his stupidity.”

“You could have,” Hermione agreed. “But you weren’t. The smile you reserve for idiots is altogether different.”

Snape looked at her harshly, his dark eyes scanning her face. What on earth was she on about? His face looked the same all the time – pale, miserable and forbidding. The tops of her cheeks suddenly went pink under his scrutiny and she suddenly started blathering.

“But did you know that the professors you targeted were also the ones that care for you the most?” Hermione continued. Snape scoffed at this saccharine comment, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. It was obvious that he didn’t believe her and this caused her dark eyes to flash.

“When you were in the hospital, Professor Vector practically bought out the wizarding world of your favorite brand of fire whiskey, just so you’d never run out.” 

Snape blinked in surprise and thought back to the bottle in his chambers – how had he never noticed that it was always topped up? He’d just assumed the house elves had been particularly attentive.

“You know all the things Poppy had on hand to heal you? Where do you think she got the supplies in such a rush?” Hermione’s eyes searched his. “From Sprout’s personal garden of course. Pomona worked night and day to make sure that she had enough nettle leaves for the blood replenishing potion ready. “And she harvested all she could of her dittany and murtlap that she’d been growing for St. Mungo’s.”  


Snape had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed at this. How had he never known of their kindness? How had he never suspected that they had played some part in it? He had always assumed that Poppy and the Healers were the sole reasons he survived. 

He wanted to stop her from talking, wanted to stalk into his room and hide from Granger’s wide eyes staring beseechingly at him. But she wasn’t stopping, in fact she was going on.

“And Professor Slughorn is forever going on about you in his Potions classes.” Hermione raised her palm up in sincerity. “He keeps referencing all the brilliant notes you made in your texts. He’s adopted several of your ideas into his curriculum.”

Snape tried not to look to haughty at that. He’d never known that – he’d done so much to keep separated from Potions, from his former life, that he didn’t know how Slughorn was faring. To know that he was actually respectful of Snape’s notes made the inner flame of irritation at the man seem to diminish.

He thought to the group that had mocked him - one figure remained.

“And Sinistra?”

“Well she’s just a cow,” Hermione offered with a shrug, drawing an unexpected laugh from the tall, dark-eyed man standing before her. The laugh softened him, showcasing a small dimple that usually remained hidden.

Feeling he had given too much of himself away, he straightened his mouth immediately. He was quiet a moment before speaking to her in a low tone.

“And what of you, Miss Granger?” Snape offered in his most silky tone. “I’m to believe you care for me? The same girl who stole from my stores? Who helped to knock me unconscious in the shrieking shack?”

“I haven’t been that student a long while,” Hermione insisted, faltering a moment under his haughty gaze. “I’ve tried to do all I can in repaying you for all you did-“

“Unnecessary.”

“I know,” Hermione insisted. “But you must understand my motivation. You’re intellect is going to waste! I saw your research on the Dragon-Scale paste! You need to have time to yourself to do your own research, like you did as a student. Those spells in your Potions textbook by the Half Blood Prince were inspired!”

Snape was quiet. Then all of a sudden his dark eyes shot daggers at her. “You’re doing this for credit.”

“Excuse me? 

“You think if I create some new spell or potion I’ll be so thankful to you that I’ll hand over co-creatorship?” Snape railed; embarrassed that he had momentarily considered she’d done it out of altruistic desire.

“Oh for goodness-“ Hermione shook her head of springy coils in frustration. “You think that’s why I did all this? Because I want credit and attention? I don’t know if you’re aware but I came back to teach at Hogwarts because I feel _safe _here. My coworkers don’t gawk at me and ask me to recount everything because they were there!”

Snape was still as a statue, watching the young witch looking at him with such immense disappointment he thought he would wither under her gaze.

“For goodness sake why did you think I was trying to equally distribute patrols and detentions?” Hermione said with an exasperated look. “I did it because your weekends are taken up by it! I did it because I _care _about you!”

There was a lengthy pause in which Snape raised a coal-black brow in her direction. Now it was her turn to look a little embarrassed.

He immediately picked up on this, advancing slowly towards her. His boots didn’t even make a sound on the flagship floor. Hermione was staring at him, looking more and more anxious with every inch he covered between them. Finally he was upon her, so close she could feel the warm and moist air of his breath on her cheek.

“Go on, Professor Granger,” he purred.

“Never mind,” she squeaked, suddenly looking as if she were going to make a dash for it. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Snape offered, raising a hand over her shoulder to press against the stone wall behind her and leaning in. “I find it curious that a woman who I barely speak to cares so much for my well being.”

“Well Professor,” Hermione answered haughtily. “I think if you stopped being so relentlessly unpleasant to everyone you’d see there’s a whole school of people who care about you. And if you gave yourself some free time to pursue your passions I think you’d be a lot happier.”

“And how do you know I’m relentlessly unpleasant?” Snape asked, a bemused twitch at the corner of his mouth softening his gaze. “Or of my _passions_?”

He noted with interest that as he softly whispered the word passions that Hermione’s pupils seemed to dilate rapidly as she stared up at him. His entire body thrummed with excitement.

“I watch you,” Hermione blurted. “I see that you work too long and eat too little. You spend your free time giving detentions or doing patrols. When the other Professors try to invite you out, you’re always making up excuses or disappearing. And I know you still like to invent potions because I see you writing them during staff meetings sometimes.”

Snape was quiet a moment, registering what she had said. There was a spark ignited –the feelings for her that he had been trying to suppress were making themselves known.

“You watch me?”

“I do. I have for a long time.”

Hermione wasn’t looking away now. In fact she was keeping her gaze level with his. He felt his heart jump a bit at the passion he clearly read there. 

He said nothing a moment, instead taking the time to explore the contours of her face. The dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose. The way her brown eyes were flecked with gold. Up this close he could inhale the scent of her light jasmine scented perfume. His long forefinger came to trace the softness of her cheek, hesitant, as if waiting for her to tell him it had all been a joke. When she didn't flinch and instead moved into his touch he felt his pulse quicken. 

Finally he spoke, so quietly she barely heard him.

“You know I’m going to have to repay you for that date with Dolores.”

Hermione’s face broke into a wide smile.

“I would expect nothing less,” Hermione said with a small giggle. Snape smirked back at her. 

"And I believe your initial note promised _carnal bliss_?"

Hermione laughed aloud at this and covered her mouth with her hands, looking up at him with a playful gaze.

“But first I think I’d like to take you to dinner,” Snape said, holding his hand out. He felt his heart hammer at the words that came tumbling out of his mouth. He hadn’t been expecting it to be this easy, for a girl he fancied to fancy him back. It felt like a trap - what if it were another prank? 

She surprised him by moving past his proferred hand and instead gripped him by the collar. He made a small sound of surprise as Hermione pressed her mouth to his, and for a moment he surrendered completely to a kiss that made his entire body break out in a flush of delight. Somewhere along the way he found himself and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her more tightly against him and deepening the kiss.

After a few moments of exploring each other’s lips, the two broke apart. Hermione smiled dreamily up at Snape, her lips puffy from their ministrations. He grinned back down at her as she absently smoothed her hair.

“Dinner sounds lovely, Severus,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "And as for the carnal bliss. . . Well, we have all night." 

With that she took his hand and the two made their way out of the classroom. As they walked hand-in-hand down the empty corridor Snape was struck by the observation that from now on life would be many things, but boring was not one of them.


End file.
